Expression
by iDdeadLOCK
Summary: Mihawk visits Shanks and brings sake, but somehow is persuaded to spar. The redhead then realizes how unexpressive the swordsman is and an attempt to fix that is presented.


**A/N** : Just a quick drabble I wrote .. spur of the moment kind of thing, really. There was a lack of Shanks x Mihawk fics and I was disappointed. Haha. This isn't anything formal. Might have some badly written parts, so I apologize. And that title .. how original of me.

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><p>This was the second roll of gauze that he had gone though just to wrap up that area. Broad shoulders. Toned muscles. Even all that shouldn't require two rolls. (They were very large rolls to begin with.)<p>

"For someone who's skilled with a sword, I'm surprised your bandaging job is so terrible." The red-haired captain laughed, a bottle of sake gripped in his right hand.

The other man said nothing. He continued to loop the fabric around the shoulder, his chest.

Shanks took a long swig of the alcohol, smacking his lips in high satisfaction before turning to his companion. "C'mon, I'm kidding. Lighten up!" He extended his arm to offer a drink to Mihawk. "You're always scowling or frowning or grumbling."

Again, there was no response from the swordsman. His hands were busy, and he never spoke unless it was necessary. And even when he did, the words were kept to a minimum. Those striking gold eyes briefly glanced at the glass bottle, looking away in silent rejection.

The pirate captain pursed his lip, sighing heavily. The silence was deafening. He had no idea where his crewmates had run off to and for what reason. So it was just him and his guest sharing drinks. ... Or rather just himself drinking and the other doing a favor. The Red-Haired pirates were probably elsewhere on the ship, roaming the deck and partying it up.

"Learn to smiiiiile." He reached over with his only arm to the swordsman's face and used his fingers to pull the lips up into a smile. Mihawk looked ridiculous.

"... ..." The dark-haired man's eyes did not hold much amusement, the usual deadpan stare. Without speaking, he quickly tied the gauze. Immediately following, he reached up to yank the fingers from his face. "Don't do that."

Shanks pursed his lip, pouting a bit, childishly. "Alright, alright." The redhead waved his hand, dismissing the conversation before it continued further.

The master swordsman then turned away to face forward. "This is precisely the reason as to why I said I do not fight one-armed has-beens."

The pair sparred often back when Shanks had both limbs. When Mihawk had discovered the left one had been chomped off by a Sea King, he made a vow to himself that he would not fight for fun with his friend anymore. Never did he doubt the captain's skills – they were exceptional for someone using one arm – for he could fight nearly on par with the greatest. To put it simply, Mihawk was more or less scared that something would go wrong and ... situations like _this_ would happen.

Earlier in the day, the swordsman stopped by their ship to drop off the alcohol Shanks loved to drink so much. The redhead had taken the liberty of inviting – somewhat forcing – the other to stay and share the delicious liquor. And somehow, Mihawk was reluctantly convinced to have at least a round of sword fight with him.

Their match lasted a good length of time. However, it ended on an adrenaline high for both sides of the arena. Shanks had asked for his friend to not hold back in the brawl, out of respect and pride. Mihawk felt obligated to do so but still kept his full power behind bars.

As much as the master swordsman tried, he had underestimated the amount of strength and skill he channeled into his muscles as he swung his sword. He ended up cutting the redhead on the left shoulder. It wasn't deep, but if blood was drawn, then it was a good time to stop what they were doing.

Shanks laughed. Maybe he was a little drunk now. "Ahh, it's not even that bad of a wound. Don't worry."

Hawk-Eyes' expression did not falter. He had no reply to the redhead's statement. He remained quiet. Those sharp yellow orbs eyed the bandages. There was some level of concern as to whether or not it was tight enough to prevent blood from bleeding out. He normally was good with medical aid, except for the fact that it was a rare, or no, occasion that he would treat those he fought. And there was a possible second reason, though he refused to let his mind wander in that detour.

"Do not ask me to fight with you again," he said harshly.

A long sigh escaped Shanks' lips. "I'll ask you again in time."

Mihawk narrowed his eyes.

"It'll be a while, so you don't need to think about it so much."

Those words were not as reassuring as they were meant to be. For the next moment, the two men sat in silence next to each other. The swordsman's arms folded across his chest. His face seemed to only have two options programmed into the muscles: a scowl or a passive serious expression. At this point, it was hard to tell which of the two.

Shanks noticed this. He had been meaning to go and lecture Mihawk for a long time. The redhead figured that the dark-haired man had not smiled for years and years and defaulted to being stone-faced throughout his years.

The bottle of sake was set down next to his seat, and he pushed himself up to lean over towards his companion. There showed the scowl as Mihawk was surprised at the blast of alcoholic scent that assaulted his nasal cavity. Still deadpan.

"... You've been drinking too -"

Shanks sealed his lips over Mihawk's at that very second, cutting off the sentence from being finished. With no hesitation, his tongue slid into the moist cavern that was the swordsman's mouth. While the swordsman simply sat there in, what looks like anyway, mild shock, Shanks was heating the connection.

He was absolutely drunk.

Their teeth knocked together, and the ebony-haired man could barely breathe as his mouth was suddenly filled with the taste of sake and Red-Haired Shanks. The hungry and sloppy kiss forced some blood to rush into his cheeks, dusting them lightly with the color of pink. Mihawk breathed out through his nose while he wriggled his hands up between them to push the captain off of him. He inhaled deeply. Sweet, sweet oxygen.

He wasn't sure if he was supposed to feel shame or embarrassment. Wiping the mingled saliva from his lips with the back of his hand, the swordsman turned his head away to hide such a childish expression.

Shanks, on the other hand, felt accomplished, dizzy with alcohol or not.

"Oh, look, I got you to give me another expression." He smirked, laughing loudly to himself at how shy, yet adorable, his friend was.

Remaining faced away. "Be quiet."


End file.
